GoshDarnIt.

Do you know what Sunday is?

October the 31st.

The day I LOATHE.

(You can read about last year here)

Why?

Because I have to attempt to be creative and come up with FOUR costumes for FOUR children with ZERO dollars.

Lumberjacks are cheap, man.

I got the girls taken care of.  We are going with the usual Little House on the Prairie/Disney Princess characters they know and love so well.

But  . . . it's those boys . . .

Quick!  Help me!

I need some ideas for boy costumes.

Here are some key things to remember:

1)  I don't sew, knit, crochet, quilt, or cross-stitch.  Ironing is also a weakness. 

I can, however, launder things.

2)  My boys are naughty.

3)  I might have a hot glue gun.  I cannot be certain. 

4)  One can oft find my boys' hands down their pants.

5)  I don't have any felt.  Is felt required?

6)  I only have one pair of cowboy boots.

7)  Glasses are optional.  Depending on whether or not Sir Handsome Dude breaks them.

8)  I am not crafty.  Really.  Not at all.

9)  I don't have an etsy shop.

10)  What is an etsy shop?

11)  My boys like all things with wheels.  If that helps?

12)  I have no spare sheets or curtains or any other large, glorious amounts of fabric.

13)  I do have lots of clothes that are too tight for me. 

14)  I might have construction paper.

15)  I am out of glue.

16)  I have a 3-hole punch and 3x5 cards.  Is this helpful?

17)  Yes!  I have construction paper! 

***

Fun Fact:  My mom, who is clearly as creative as I am, once dressed me up as a "Bunch of Grapes."

How did she accomplish this?

Well.

She dressed me in green pants and a green shirt and taped 4.2 million purple balloons to my body.

I wasn't even that young.

It was probably the same year this fateful picture was taken:

So.

Now you know why I am the way that I am.

Anyways.

If you have any super-easy-fun-free-cheap-EASY ideas for me, feel free to enlighten me.

And don't get any smart ideas . . . I don't have any balloons.

Later Dudes.

PS-I just wanted you to all know that I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, made my own strawberry jam tonight AND canned it.

Holla, Taylor Maliblahblah.

Holla.

PPS-Notice how I did not make huckleberry jam.  This is because I haven't submitted the necessary forms required for my husband to grant me permission to use the purple gold.

Perhaps next year, I will get my ducks in a row.

PPPS-Why do people hand out banana-flavored tootsie rolls?

For shame, people.

For.

Shame.

A Suggestive Text

Normally, I would not have the nerve to post the following scenario, out of fear that my parents would read it and ground me.

However.

My parents are in the lovely city of New Orleans at this current moment in time and do not think that the World Wide Web exists in places other than their living room.

So, I'm good.

I think.

If for some reason my blog disappears off the face of the earth, you will know that I was wrong and had to suffer the consequences.

It was nice knowing you.

***

Yesterday, my husband texted me out of the blue at 9am.

If you know my husband at all, just the idea of him texting is hilarious.

(You can read about the first text he ever received here)

David:  How are you doing today :}

Yes.  He made the wrong sign for the smiley face.  But using emoticons is a HUGE step in our relationship.

You can understand why I let it slide.

Taylor:  SUPER

This was sarcastic on my part.  We had a little spat this week and me saying everything was SUPER really drove my point home.

Don't mind me . . . I'm just holding a grudge.

David:  Whatever liar

See?  He picked up on my sublteness.

So, I felt bad for being such a poo and decided to text more.

Taylor:  I am fine.  Trying to get the kids started for school.  Boys stole gum from my purse.  Again.  Handsome Dude peed in his pants and hid them.  Handsome Dude took off Little Dude's wet diaper and put underwear on him.  Lucy peed all over the laundry room.  And pooped.  How are you?

LucyFUR.

David:  Fine.

David:  Is a copier a male or a female?

Taylor:  What?

David:  Yup.

Taylor:  Copier?

David:  Female once it is turned off it takes forever to get warmed back up

Taylor:  Dang.  Bad news for you.

Dear Lord,

Please help my parents to not figure out that the Internet reaches the vast wildernesses of New Orleans.

Thank you.

Are you wondering why I shared that?

So am I.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

I miss having a wood stove.

And pigs can now fly.

You may ask:  "Taylor!  Why on earth would you miss that dreadful beast?"

Because, dear readers.

It was SO warm.

And Ruralville is so cold.  And lonely.  And peach.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

Good News:  I think we killed all the mice in the trunk.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

I started the 30 Day Shred again.

Alert:  I still don't like exericse.

Sad Alert:  I still can't make it through the jumping jack segment without running to use the facilities.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

People at our home group thought we were a lovely couple well into our 30's.

I AM 29, THANK YOU.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

Lest any of you think I am All-That-And-A-Bag-Of-Chips for posting this gem of a picture:

I must come clean and inform you that at my school, there were no "cuts" for cheerleaders.

Come one, come all!

Even if you have really, really, bad bangs.

***

Random Topic Quick Change!

During school, I was helping Daisy Mae with a writing assignment. 

Me:  Ok.  Put your name here.

DM (short for Daisy Mae . . . keep up, people!):  Ok.

Me:  Date here

DM:  OCTOBRE 72, 2010

Me:  Good.

DM:  Do I need to put my city?

Me:  Nope.

DM:  Phone number?

Me:  Nope.

DM:  Weird.

Me:  Yup.

DM:  I know why!  Because if the bad guys ever found my writing paper they could come find me and kill us!  And that would not be good.

Me:  Ok.  Let's just get started.

**

Poor girl.  I think my safety paranoias are rubbing off on her.

Well.

I gotta get myself into the shower and into some actual clothes.

Company is coming!

Better don my pearls.

Happy Thursday!

PS-I don't have pearls.

Stay Away From The Cans!

It's a dreary, cold, rainy Wednesday here in Ruralville!

You know what that means?

Neither do I.

But let's play a game, shall we?

You know.

For kicks and grins.

Let's see who is movie-savvy.

Or, more accurately, let's see who has seen the same movies I have.

Some might be movie lines . . . some might be song quotes . . . I cannot be certain.

I am a force to be reckoned with.

1.  I want the chipper chicken.

2.  I'm what you call "sans parents."

3.  Bless her beautiful hide . . . wherever she may be.

4.  Frankly my dear, I don't give a *bleep* (flagged for adult content)

5.  I'll never let go, Jack.

Thought I would throw in a super easy one.

You're welcome.

6.  I'm a married Spud!  I'm a married Spud!

7.  Just when I think you couldn't be any dumber, you go and do something like this . . . and totally redeem yourself!

8.  He hates these cans!  Stay away from the cans!

9.  Pick a little, talk a little, pick a little, talk a little, cheep cheep cheep, talk a lot, pick a little more.

10.  Anyway, like I was sayin', shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. There's uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that's about it.

The winner will win the satisfaction of knowing they are a winner.

Happy Wednesday!

Grace

*Prayer Request Update*

I posted a prayer request a few weeks ago and I wanted to thank you all for your prayers. 

The prayers were for my brother's family.  His wife is pregnant with their third child, a girl.  Her name is Grace Elizabeth.  Baby Grace's ultrasound revealed several critical health problems and the doctors have not given her much hope.

I just wanted to update you and let you know that my sister-in-law appreciated your prayers so much and asks that you continue to pray. 

She reads this blog and might read these comments if you would like to let her know you are praying.

Thank you.

Randomness on a Tuesday Morn.

What I am about to tell you is real.

And happened just last Saturday.

And makes me ponder things . . . and life . . . in general.

***

LJ (short for Lumberjack . . . keep up, people!):  Hey.  I'm going to go clean up the garage for a bit.

Me:  Ok.  Sounds good.

So, he goes outside to do what I would assume to be something like:  move around power tools, ropes, trashcans, gas cans, tarps, the 4 wheeler, air compressors, and other garage-ly things.

And I, being the fantastic homemaker that I am, decided to roam around the house doing house-ly things.

You know.

Like fold laundry, do dishes, and have a spirited conversation with myself about how the kids say their rooms are clean, when clearly, they are not clean.

As I was loading the washing machine once again, I glanced out the window and saw this:

Why, yes!

I'm glad you asked!

That is my husband.

And, yes! 

He has strapped on his Lumberjackish shoes and safety-belt and climbed up the tree in our very own driveway.

Chainsaw and all.

For to trim the dead branches.

It is moments like this, dear readers, that I become perplexed at my husband.

Perplexed.

So, he was out there "tidying up the garage" for a few hours and had two burn piles going.

Why?

Because he moved out to the middle of nowhere and he can.

He came inside and ate some of my delicious, super-scrumptious ELK TACOS.

No, you silly gooses!

I most certainly did not taste the ELK TACO meat.

What do you think I am?

Crazy?

After his delicious ELK TACO, he decided that a little hunting would tickle his fancy.

So he got all camo-flauged-out and went out in the backyard.

You can see why he loves the new house . . . no?

So, while he was gone, my dad stopped by.

Hold the phone!  A visitor?  In Ruralville?

It was quite the day, I tell you.

Dad:  Where's Dave?

Me:  Hunting.

Dad:  But his truck is here?

Me:  Oh yeah.  He's just back there in his tree stand.

Dad:  Huh?

Me:  Want me to get him?  If I yell off the back deck he can hear me.

Dad:  Tree stand?

Me:  Well, I might get in trouble for spooking the deer.

Dad:  Well, what's he got burning?

Me:  Dead tree branches.

Dad:  Why does he have two burn piles going?

Me:  Because he can.

***

Let's revisit this story in a short and bulleted format shall we?

* I talk to myself sometimes.

* My husband has Lumberjackish shoes and some sort of rope that suspends him up in a tree

* We now have burn piles

* Cooking elk meat made my stomach hurt

* I never did get all my laundry done

*  My husband hunts in his own backyard

*  Only a few months ago, I lived mere blocks from art galleries, coffee shops, restaurants, and a lake.

***

Moving on.

Daisy Mae was quite perturbed with me after finding a photograph of herself lying facedown in the storage room.

So, she has rescued it and proudly displays it wherever she goes.

***

And, finally, I would like to show you something that I call:

A Bummer.

And guess what!

We have a super strict rule that absolutely NO sippy cups may ever leave the kitchen!

We're running a tight ship over here.

Happy Tuesday!

PS-Thank you to all of you who visited me at my guest post yesterday!  I appreciated it!

Nervous and Sweaty.

Today I am guest posting at Mindee's blog, Our Front Door.

Normally, I would be all hyper and strange and say something to the effect of,

"Look at me with my Big-Girl-Blogging-Pants On!"

But, no.

Not today.

Today I am nervous.

Mindee's a "Big-Girl-Blogger" herself.  You should check out her blog post haste.  Mindee is an excellent writer and I always enjoy visiting her blog.  She has three great kids, works at a school, and has a great sense of humor.  She also posts delicious recipes.

And the best part?

Somehow, she has managed to get her husband to read her blog posts and comment on them!

Incredulous!

Fun Fact:  I think The Lumberjack foolishly believes I have given up this  "silly blogging nonsense."

I kid!  I jest!

So, anyways.  I am over there posting today, nervous and sweaty, and showing ridiculous pictures of myself that look like this:

What was I not thinking?

Please come visit me over there this morning so I don't feel like a silly goose.

It would be most appreciated.

Click Here

Happy Monday!

Razzle Dazzle!

You may ask, "Taylor!  Why the peculiar title?"

No reason.

But you must admit that saying "Razzle Dazzle" is super fun.

Try it.

See?

Genius.

***

This week, I posted a series of questions, of which many of you answered. 

And I thank you.  I thank you kindly.

So, I thought I would repost the questions and pick an answer.

See?

Very Razzle-Dazzle-ish.

1.  Why is the meat thermometer not supposed to touch the bone?

From Jill:  It doesn’t really matter. Cooking-types make that sort of stuff up to make non-cooking types think that cooking stuff is more difficult than it really is. (Can you tell which type I am?)

2.  Why does my husband always look like this:

in pictures?

From Melissa K:  Missing his front teeth?

3.  Was Jeremiah really a bullfrog?  Really?  And if so, how did he have such mighty, fine wine?

Molly said:  Jeremiah wasn’t really a bullfrog..he was a HUMAN trapped in a frog’s body…therefore it was a mighty fine WHINE he was having..cause, well, being a bullfrog he couldn’t have WINE, and if I couldn’t have wine I would most definitely whine….

And, apparently, I did not get the line right according to these observant readers:

Jen:Except, doesn’t the song say that I always helped him drink his wine? And I can’t believe I am even debating the lyrics of a song about being high.

Tracie: 

Because I am a crazy lyric person, I can’t even make it any further down the page without saying that the song says

“I helped him drink his wine. He always had some mighty fine wine”

Whatever.

Razzle Dazzle.

4.  I have to drive to town with a couple hundred pounds of elk meat in the back of my diesel rig on this very frigid Tuesday morn. 

 This is not a question. 

This is a cry for help.

Joyce:   The diesel rig needs to make a pit stop at Starbucks. 10-4 good buddy.

5.  Should I become a vegetarian?

From Andi: NOOO!!! Everyone I know who goes vegan ends up gaining wait because they are hungry, and they eat way too many carbs. Choose lean meat. It is your friend.

You mean it is a bad plan to fill up on mashed potatoes and rolls?

6.  Will somebody please share with me a delicious recipe that I can take to people when they need a meal that has the ability to freeze/unfreeze well?  I fear my recipients can’t choke down chicken pot pie anymore.

Mindee:  

I can help you with the meals issue: http://www.ourfrontdoor.us/in-the-fridge/category/freezes-well I find that the pizza wheels are especially popular for families with kids.

7.  What is one of your favorite blogs to read?  My goal is to track down all other blogs and destroy them.

Ha!  Kidding!

Or.

Am.

I?

There were way too many to list.  Sorry.

But here is one of mine:

http://ostricheslookfunny.blogspot.com

8.  I was really kidding.  I just like reading new blogs.

From Jessy:  Liar.

9.  How is it that when I sing in the shower, my voice sounds super spectacular?  But when singing in the presence of human beings, it sounds dreadful?

From Jill:  I don’t know. But I do know that I sang the harmony part in a duet on Sunday, and I was really really bad. Seriously. I freaked myself out right before singing, and then I couldn’t find my note. And then I couldn’t get a deep breath because a gnat was flying right in front of me and I was afraid of sucking it in. And then I found out that my mike was turned way up and the mike for the woman singing melody was turned way down so all anyone could hear was me singing harmony way offkey. It was a very long song. Everyone was glad when it was over.

 10.  What is your favorite book?

Too many to answer!

But I did just read The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins in one night, per Lani's recommendation.

So, then I recommended the book to my dearheart friend Bimlissa.

Bimlissa, snooty as usual, told me she read it ages ago.

Bimlissa, keeping with the snooty theme, informed me that she will no longer recommend books to me after the Twilight Fiasco of 2009.

Summary of the Twilight Fiasco of 2009:

Bimlissa is on "Team Edward" and I am on "Team Why Am I Reading This Rubbish?"

We are slowly working towards a healthier place in our relationship.

11.  What is your favorite TV show?

Too many to answer!

But my two favorites are The Office and The Big Bang Theory.

Bazinga!

12.  What are your thoughts on Facebook Status Updates?

Jessy: I hate the status updates that tell you some sob story/statistics and then tell you you are a horrible person if you don’t make it your status too.

Rachel:  Wonderful if limited to one status update per day.

13.  Why do people play Farmville?  I fear my sister is one of them.  I hereby declare an intervention.

If you enjoy Farmville, I mean you no ill-will. 

JoAnn:  Farmville is the devil. I used to play. I quit at Christmas time. It took me an hour to open “presents” from other friends and I didn’t finish opening them because halfway through I realized that I had just spent an HOUR of my LIFE opening FAKE PRESENTS THAT ARE NOT REAL

Amen.

14.  Why do my boys lock a door and then close it when no one is in it?

The Musician's Wife:  Because of Science.

15.  Why do my boys steal food and hide it from me under beds and tables?

From Wichiepoo: To get the mouse out of your car trunk, they are doing this for you!

16.  Why do my boys soap each other up in the bath and waste a half of a bottle of shampoo whilst doing so?

The Musician's Wife:  Because of science.

17.  Why do they get out of the bath and run to the shower to steal the shampoo after I hid it from them?

The Musican's Wife:  Because of Science.

18.  Should I write a “Parenting How-to” book?

Don’t answer that one.

19.  Why, pray tell, is it that Daisy Mae can spell out her super long last name, but when I ask her to spell the word “went,” she writes, “wtni”

From Joyce:  Because she is darling and knows that spell check is the wave of the future.

***

Some more thoughts on this picture:

1)  I had been crying.  Hysterically.  I wasn't easily adaptable.  This was out of my comfort zone.

2)  This picture is framed and in my mother's house.

3)  Yes.  It is real.

4)  No.  I do not know what we were wearing.

***

And now, it is time for the COW

COW=Comment of the Week.

Keep up, people!

This week's winner is Ada:

Story time: I was in banking for over a decade. One week every girl on my teller line got asked if they were pregnant by a different man. Every one. I thought it was hilarious until it was my turn.
Silly male customer: “Are you pregnant?”
Me: “Um, no.”
Silly male customer: “Oh, well maybe it is the shirt.”
Me: “Let me give you a little bit of advice. In the future, do not ask a lady if she is pregnant unless she is physically giving birth in front of you.”
Silly male customer looks at me with a little bit of shock.
Me: “Now, how would you like your cash back?”

I would like to point out that I was the tiniest I have ever been when this happened and the girl that stood next to me was a size 0. These were clearly just crazy people.
Crazy, I tell you.

I feel for you, Ada.

Oh, yes.

But let us not also forget the dreaded "When are you due?" question when your baby is a mere few days old and is sitting right next to you.

Not like that has ever happened to  me.

Happy Weekend!

 

The One Thing I Can Never Forgive My Mother For

The ill-fated glamor portraits of 1994, meant as a Valentine's Day gift for my dad.

Creepy, is it not?

Poor me.

Poor, chubby, emotional, junior-high-ish, pimpled, cranky, moody me.

(From left to right:  My sister Meagan, Mother, and Me)

That is all.

A Thursday List

1.  On Tuesday, I hauled all the children around in my ginormous rig and did every errand known to man.  I must now do my errands this way, seeing as how we live so far.

2.  Upon three, yes, three separate occasions, I had this same conversation with friendly passersby:

Passerby:  Wow!  You've sure got your hands full!

Me:  Yup!  I sure do! 

Passerby:  Hello, kids!

Me:  Say Hello, Kids!  Hello, Hello!  Ok!

Friendly passerby is not quite aware of the frantic, desperate need for a mother of four to KEEP MOVING!

Attention peoples I do not know who stop me in the store:

Do you not understandeth?

To stop and give my children the opportunity to roam, investigate, touch, smell, see, get bored, look, steal, touch, hit, pull hair, yell, touch,cry, giggle, tickle, bite, touch, stand up, sit down, run around, touch, whine, complain, holler (not holla), touch, and touch, touch, touch is foolish, asinine surrender on my part.

I will not let the grocery store experience with four children defeat me.

As God as my witness, I will not be brought down.

Passerby:  Wow.  I don't know how you do it.  My one just exhausts me!

Me:  Oh!  Thanks!  Well, I guess you just get used to it!

Passerby:  Well, aren't they all just so precious?

She must not notice that the boy has his hands down his pants.

Per.

Usual.

Passerby:  Wait a minute!  These three look alike, but the youngest one . . . boy!  He sure doesn't look like the others!

Me:  Nope!  Nope, nope, nope!  Weird, huh?  Ok!

Passerby:  How funny!  I mean the older three all have the same facial shape and characteristics, but the littlelest one . . . hmmmm . . .

Me:  I know!  He looks more like my father's side of the family!

At this point, I have most assuredly lost control and the kids have released themselves to pillage and plunder.

Passerby:  So . . . do they all come from the same . . . dad?

Me:  Yes.

*sigh*

3.  Dear Readers.  May I give you a few pointers?

Good.

If ever you meet up with a young mother in a store, please take heed of my advice and do not ever ask any of the following questions:

"Are you preganant?"

"Are ALL those kids yours?"

"Do ALL your kids have the same dad?"

"When are you due?"

And, lastly but not leastly, do not ever touch a stranger's stomach and say,

"How precious!  When are you due?"

Because.

SHE MIGHT JUST HAVE A PLUMP TUMMY.

NOT A BABY.

THANK YOU.

AND YES.  ALL MY KIDS HAVE THE SAME FATHER.

THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

4.  I am sorry for the last segment.  I just took years of shopping frustration out on all of you.

And you did not deserve it.

5.  I met my good friend, Ashlee, for a little playdate on Tuesday.  Ashlee and I have been friends since we were 5!  Amazing!  We went to the same school together all of our lives.

Anyways, I was reminded of a humorous conversation Ashlee and I had many years ago.

Ashlee:  Anyways, I think she is going to have the baby tonight.

Me:  Wow!  How far is she dilated?

Ashlee:  I think like 5 inches.

Me:  You mean centimeters.

Ashlee:  No.  Inches.

Me:  No.  Centimeters.

Ashlee:  Taylor!  People don't dilate 10 centimeters to have a baby!  Do you know how small that is?  How could a baby ever fit through that?

Me:  That's why it hurts.

Ashlee:  I am pretty sure it is inches.

Me:  Ashlee!  10 inches is like a pie plate!  You wouldn't even have to push.  You would just stand up and the baby would fall out!

Ashlee:  I don't know . . .

Raise your hand if you think our education failed us.

Fun Fact:  We graduated at the top of our class.

6.  Pop Quiz!

From which TV show does this quote come from:

"These pretzels are making me thirsty."

7.  The Lumberjack caught killed an elk last week.

8.  I will now be cooking elk . . . everything.  Elk spaghetti.  Elk meat loaf.  Elk stew.  Elk soup.  Elk casserole.  Elk pot pie.  Elk lasagna.  Elk chowder.  Elk jambalaya.  Elk fried steak.  Elk stir fry.  Elk burgers.  Elk brownies.  Elk picatta.  Elk fettucine. 

Elk.

Elk.

Elk.

Congratulations, Universe.

You win.

Happy Thursday!

 

If you learn nothing else from this post, learn that I am wee pretty. Thank you.

The following happenstance between me and my 3-year-old occured just this very morn.

Brace yourselves.

It's exciting.

Ok.  That was a lie.

Irregardless.  Feel free to brace yourselves.

***

Me:  Good Morning, Dude!

HD (short for Handsome Dude . . . keep up, people!):  arrggghhhh-hrmmmmph

Me:  Alrighty then.

HD throws himself prostrate on the ground.

Prostrate.  Not prostate.

Get your minds out of the gutter.  Or the medical dictionary.

Moving on.

HD: (wailing) Mom!  Why you not give me chocolate milk?!

Me:  Would you like some chocolate milk?

HD:  NO!  I want cereal.

Me:  I can make you cereal.  Can you say please?

HD:  I did!

Me:  No.  You didn't.

The previous sentence has thrust Handsome Dude into a fit of sorrow and despair.

I ignore him and continue to desperately sip the life-giving goodness of my morning cup of coffee . . . all while pretending there isn't a handsome, albeit naughty, child throwing a fit at my feet.

HD:  (who is surprisingly much happier now)  Yay!  It's Barney time!

Me:  Did you want to watch a morning show?

HD:  Yes!  Barney!  Let's go!

Me:  Well, did you want breakfast first?

HD:  Yes!

Me:  Ok, well you cannot eat upstairs. 

HD:  I just watch Barney.

I decide I am too lazy to climb the 10-12 dreaded stairs up to the television area.

Me:  I know!  Let's snuggle on the couch and look for deer!

HD:  Yes!  Deer?  Deer?  Where are you?

*giggle, giggle, chuckle, chuckle*

Is anyone else amazed by his speedy attitude change?

 

HD:  Mommy!  You wee pretty!

Me:  Thank you, dude.

HD:  Oh!  Yay!  It's cookie time!

Me:  No.  It's not.

HD:  Why?

Me:  Dude.  It's like 7am.

HD:  What are you eating?  What are you eating?

He tries to pry my mouth open.

 

Me:  Dude!  It's just snot!  I was sniffling.

Gross.

I know.

 

But I truly am quite congested this morning.

HD:  Can I have some?

Me:  No!  It's not food!  I just have a cold.

HD:  No!  It's coffee!  I want some coffee!

Me:  SO.  DO.  I.

HD:  Oh!  Yay!  It's time for Chuggington!

Chuggington is a tv show.

 

Me:  Ok.  That's fine.

Not that I let my kids watch aimlessly watch the television, dear readers.  No.  Never.  Ever.

 

***

This is my glamorous life.

Please.

Try to conceal your jealousy.

Happy Wednesday.

Perplexion.

Let's try something new this morning, shall we?

Come on.

It will be a funky adventure.

Instead of a post where you ask me questions, hows abouts I ask you  questions?

Huh?  Eh?  Yes?  No?

Well.  I think it sounds most splendid.  I will throw a few questions out there and you may answer one question, or as many as you deem worthy.

Humor me.

1.  Why is the meat thermometer not supposed to touch the bone?

2.  Why does my husband always look like this:

in pictures?

Could be that he finds it too strenuous to smile?

3.  Was Jeremiah really a bullfrog?  Really?  And if so, how did he have such mighty, fine wine?

4.  I have to drive to town with a couple hundred pounds of elk meat in the back of my diesel rig on this very frigid Tuesday morn. 

 This is not a question. 

This is a cry for help.

5.  Should I become a vegetarian?

6.  Will somebody please share with me a delicious recipe that I can take to people when they need a meal that has the ability to freeze/unfreeze well?  I fear my recipients can't choke down chicken pot pie anymore.

7.  What is one of your favorite blogs to read?  My goal is to track down all other blogs and destroy them.

Ha!  Kidding!

Or.

Am.

I?

8.  I was really kidding.  I just like reading new blogs. 

9.  How is it that when I sing in the shower, my voice sounds super spectacular?  But when singing in the presence of human beings, it sounds dreadful?

10.  What is your favorite book?

11.  What is your favorite TV show?

12.  What are your thoughts on Facebook Status Updates?

13.  Why do people play Farmville?  I fear my sister is one of them.  I hereby declare an intervention.

If you enjoy Farmville, I mean you no ill-will. 

14.  Why do my boys lock a door and then close it when no one is in it?

15.  Why do my boys steal food and hide it from me under beds and tables?

16.  Why do my boys soap each other up in the bath and waste a half of a bottle of shampoo whilst doing so?

17.  Why do they get out of the bath and run to the shower to steal the shampoo after I hid it from them?

18.  Should I write a "Parenting How-to" book?

Don't answer that one.

19.  Why, pray tell, is it that Daisy Mae can spell out her super long last name, but when I ask her to spell the word "went," she writes, "wtni"

That's all I got.

That was excessive, was it not?

I am full of something this morning.

Happy Tuesday!

Bling it Up!

After church yesterday, the kids and I went to my parents' house for food, fun, and fellowship.

And pumpkin blinging.

Oh, yes.

Pumpkin Bling . . . ing.

First of all, I forgot my camera.

Tragic.

So, I asked my mother if I could use her camera.

Mom:  No.

Me:  Ok.

Mom:  Well.  It's just not working.

Me:  What's wrong with it?

Mom:  It is in my trunk and it is out of batteries.

Me:  Ok.  Do you have more batteries?

Mom:  Yes.  Up high in the closet.

Me:  Good news!  This is fixable!

So, I made the long trek out to her car for her and retrieved said camera.  I fear the camera has been trapped in the trunk of doom for months.

I know this because this is the last picture she took:

and that, dear readers is a picture of me and my super-cool-sis on the fifteenth day of May in the year two-thousand-and-ten of our Lord.

I am on the left.  Your right.  My sister is on the right.  Your left.

It's a good thing my parents purchase items such as Ipods, Kindles, digital cameras, video cameras, laptops, CDs, DVDs, and cassette tapes.

Not a waste at all.

Moving on.

My mother had acquired pizza, soda pop, pumpkins, bling, glue, and my niece and nephew for the days festivities.

Daisy Mae.

Sweet Pea and my niece.

You may ask, "Taylor!  Where are Sweet Pea's glasses?"

Well, dear readers.

Not only did Handsome Dude manage to break his glasses, but he also managed to break his sister's glasses.

All in the same week.

The kid has talent.

It's a good thing Sweet Pea has a spare pair.  Of which she lost.

Daisy Mae and my nephew.

Did you notice that both my niece and nephew look clean, well-groomed, and have their glasses intact?

So did I.

The dudes.

After pizza, the kids went outside for a fantastic game of "Red Rover, Red Rover."

News of great shock:  Handsome Dude did not understand what was going on and therefore assumed everyone was his enemy . . .

and he walked off the field full of bitterness and rage.

Whilst the children were playing and demonstrating poor sportsmanship, my mother, my sister and I cleaned up the kitchen to get ready for the Bling . . . ing.

Pumpkin bling . . . ing is something my ma came up with after thumbing through a Good Housekeeping magazine.

My parents, unlike my in-laws, are not into things such as hunting, fishing, chainsaw-ing, and basically all forms of sharp cutlery, so the idea of not having to slice into a pumpkin appealed to us all.

I can proudly say that absolutely no pumpkins were injured during the creating of this funtastic day.

They were, however, bedazzled.

Mother had purchased a bunch of fake jewels and tacky glue from Walmart.

We set the jewels out and let the childrens' creative juices overflow.

Sweet Pea and her pumpkin.

Breech in security:  Sweet Pea's factual name starts with a "K."

Keep it on the down low.

Meagan and Little Dude.

Hey, Meagan!  Meagan!  Can you see me?  Hello?  You seem to have some hair in your eyes.

Meagan got to test her patience with dear Little Dude.

He refused to see the pumpkins for what they truly were and would only refer to them as "apples."

Sensational!

So, we bid our loved ones farewell and drove miles upon miles to our little house in the middle of nowhere with our Razzle Dazzle pumpkins in the trunk.

Feel free to steal this idea and bling it up with your own friends and family.

Happy Monday!

Thank you for all the prayers.  Please continue to pray, as there is a doctor's appointment tomorrow.

Your prayers are greatly appreciated and mean a lot.

Prayer Request

Our family received some sad news this week, and it has been on my mind a lot.

I am not sure how much they would want me to share on here, so I won't say much.

But I was wondering if you wouldn't mind lifting up a hurting family and a baby girl in your prayers this week?

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.  Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give away and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea . . .

Be still, and know that I am God.”

(Psalms 46:1, 2, and 10)

"He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. 

He determines the number of the stars and calls them by name.

Great is our Lord and mighty in power; his understanding has no limit."

Psalms 147: 3-5

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness."

Lamentations 3:22-23

Friday Fantasticness!

Is "Fantasticness" a word?

I vote yes!

Alright, folks.  We've got a lot of ground to cover.

Let's get ready to rumble.

1.  I may or may not have permitted my children to watch a Taylor Swift music video.  When Taylor Swift was on the screen, Little Dude kept yelling,

"Look!  It's mama!"

Isn't he a good boy?

2.  Whilst watching Ms Swift, Daisy Mae noticed that she had some lovely jewels adorning her eyes.



Daisy Mae informed me that I should do that everyday so I could look pretty.

3.  I tried to explain the ridiculousness of the fact that Ms Swift is supposed to be a mere highschool lass in this musical video.

And it is kind of crazy that she is wearing an evening gown (that keeps falling off the shoulder, mind you), laying in bed all glammed out with bling on her face, singing a love song, all while clutching her guitar.

Daisy Mae did not see my point.

4.  The Lumberjack, more accurately known as David, called me yesterday.  It was the first time I had spoken to him since Saturday.

I did my best to sound weary, exhausted, lonely, and forlorn.

My motive was to persuade him to come home a tiddly-bit early.

I was not successful.

5.  Come on, Lumberjack!

It's time you make a choice.

Me  or this:

6.  He will most certainly choose the latter.  Perhaps things wouldn't be this way if I glued jewels to my face each night.

7.  After our phoneversation (ha!  I just made that up!), I suspiciously started singing,

"I ain't missing you at all!"

Name that music artist.

8.  But I do miss him.

9.  I just wish I was as enticing as an elk.

10.  He said he hasn't seen any bull elk.  Just some cows and spikes.

100 (meaningless) points to anyone who knows what a spike is.

I know what it is!

Look at me with my big-girl-hunter's-wife pants on!

11.  Last night's conversation:

Sweet Pea:  Mom.  What is a blog?

Me:  I don't know.  It's just a silly thing.

Sweet Pea:  Mom.  Can I read your blog?

Me:  No.

Sweet Pea:  Why?

Me:  It's almost bedtime.

Sweet Pea:  What is your blog called?

Me:  The Lumberjack's Wife.

Sweet Pea:  Why?

Me:  I don't know.  It's dumb.

Sweet Pea:  You should call it "The Mom Who Is Always Tired Blog."

12.  I read "Horton Hatches the Egg" by Dr. Seuss at least twice a day to the boys.

I am getting tired of it, one hundred per cent.

I'm gonna need a 10-4 Good Buddy from anyone who has any idea what I am talking about.

Over and out.

13.    I probably need to drive to town soon. 

I am starting to get weird and creepy.

14.  I am going to get a little funky today and not center my post.

15.  And now I would like to introduce you to a new segment called,

"The Same Thing Happens every Week"

Other person:  Hey, Taylor!  I heard you write a blog!

Me:  Yes, I do.

Other person:  So . . . you're The Lumberjack's Wife?

Me:  Yup.

Other person:  I thought David was an electrician?

Me:  He sure is.

Other person:  Did he used to be a lumberjack?

Me:  Nope.  Not at all.

Other person:  Oh.  Hmmm.

Me:  Yup.

*awkward silence*

16.  Darn this blog.

17.  It is frigid outside today.

18.  I should have plugged in my rig.

19.  Alright.  I have droned on long enough.

20.  Happy Friday!

Parenting Fail

During school this morning, my head started to hurt really badly and I just started to feel generally sick.

Not super sick.  Just a little yucky.

I think I am getting a sinus infection. 

 I find this quite vexing.

So, I told the kids they had to "put mommy to bed."

Responsible, aren't I?

But I just had to lay down for a few moments.

They had a grand and glorious time tucking me in and giving me 64 snotty kisses.

Me:  Daisy Mae.  You come in here right now if anyone tries to open any doors.

Daisy Mae:  Yes, Mom.

Me:  And don't let the puppy in the living room.

Daisy Mae:  Yes, Mom.

Me:  And don't get into any food.  I will make lunch soon.

Now, I had to throw that in, dear readers, because at precisely 6:02am this very morn, I awoke to my boys trying to turn on the TV while surrounded by yogurt, a 13x9 pan of brownies, an apple, and two spoons in our upstairs loft where absolutely no food is ever allowed.

Can I just say that I am so very proud that they included an apple?

Daisy Mae:  And Mom?  Should I wake you if someone dies?

Me:  Yes.  That would be important.

Daisy Mae:  Especially if Cokey-da-Bear (Little Dude . . .keep up, people!) dies, right?  Cause he is really cute.

Me:  Yes.  Wake me up then.

Daisy Mae:  Ok, Mom!  Bye!

And off they all went downstairs where they are currently pounding on the piano and singing songs of great joy in celebration of their freedom.

And the only reason why I am typing this instead of resting is because I forgot about the monitor.

And there is nothing less pleasant than 4 children having a sing-a-long at the top of their lungs blasting through a monitor when you are trying to sleep.

At least they are singing worship music.

And no!  I did not turn the monitor off!

What kind of a parent do you think I am?

Goodbye.

PS-I am really a good, responsible parent in real life.  I think.

PPS-I could always use The Lumberjack's famous excuse . . . "Taylor.  Have I let any of them die, yet?"

PPPS-Does anyone else find this excuse of his less than comforting?

PPPPS-Don't worry about me.  I haven't spoken to an adult in real life since Monday night.  But I am okay.

PPPPPS-  There are plenty of mice and deer to visit with.

Random Pointlessness on a Wednesday afternoon.

Yes.  Hello.

I am aware that I have been posting a lot.  And I apologize for that.  However, my parents ceased camping here and The Lumberjack is still out in the wilderness searching for his dream bull elk and I NEED TO TALK. 

Fun Fact:  A male elk is called a bull elk.  A female elk is called a cow.

And don't say I never taught you nothing.  But the bull elk is where it's at.  On account of the horns and such.

I don't want to talk about hunting.

I want to talk about Lucy.

Lucy is not as naughty as I once previously thought.

She is a typical puppy, but not evil.

She sleeps through the night now!  We only had two bad nights.  But last night, I put her to bed at 9pm and didn't get her out until 7am with no problems!

Holla, Lucy!

Holla!

I really didn't want to name her Lucy.  I wanted to name her Norma-Jean-Riley.  I'm gonna need a 10-4 good buddy from anyone who knows the song of whence I speak.

But the girls nipped that idea in the bud and she has been called Lucy ever since.

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

My mother took the day off on Monday to help me with the Lumberjacklings.  It was a pleasant day.  Homeschooling is much easier when you have a qualified Grams looking after the naughtiest of the children.

After lunch, we put the boys down for a nap, let the girls watch some tv, and ma and I just sat on the couch drinking coffee and talking.

Then the boys woke up and we loaded everyone up and drove to a tiny town about 20 minutes away where a super cute store exists.

I bought this wreath:

I like it.

I think it makes my peach walls "pop!", don't you?

And since it is above the fireplace-ish area, The Lumberjack will get no smart ideas to put any bulls or bucks in it's stead.

Tricky, tricky!

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Whilst mother was off on Monday, we took the Lumberjacklings to the park.  I took a few pictures of this joyous event with the cell phone.

Did you know you can text your pictures to your email account?  This was fantastic news to me. 

"Welcome to the 90s, Mr. Banks."

(Name that movie)

Here is my mom with a few of the kids.

I have so many, I forget their names at times.

It happens.

I think this one is Daisy Mae . . .

Yes.  It is.

And that bundle of joy is Little Dude.

Fun Fact about Little Dude:  Whenever he gets in trouble, he immediately asks for a kiss before resuming activities.

Isn't that cute?

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Never mind about Lucy.  She just tried to eat Little Dude.  And she got into the garbage.

I am thinking I will go with Sandy's friend a call her Lucy-Fur.

Do you get it?

Do you get it?

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

I am bemoaning the fact that I have to go to the store.

I am too slothful to properly clothe and shoe all of my children.  I just don't want to do it.

Plus we have to drive for miles upon wretched miles.

And my bladder is not what it used to be.

But.

We are out of milk, dish soap, and my hair dryer broke.

I really, really, really need a hair dryer.

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

I drove all the way to  Walmart yesterday and forgot my purse.

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Most ridiculous conversation I had today:

Daisy Mae:  Can I have a snack?

Me:  Yes.

Daisy Mae:  What can I have?

Me:  How about animal crackers?

Daisy Mae:  Ok.  I can't find them.

Me:  I saw them on the bathroom floor.

Daisy Mae:  That's right!

Super!

***

Random-Topic-Quick-Change!

Well.

That's all I have to say.

It was riveting though, was it not?

Perhaps you can talk to me . . . no?

Maybe ask me a question?

Tell a humorous tale?

Share a favorite blog?

Tell me what your favorite animal is?

Tell me it is okay to make a double pan of my favorite brownies?

Later Dudes and Dudettes!

But mostly dudettes.

Are there any dudes?

Probably not.

Ok.  I am done now.

 

Applesauce Day!

A couple of weeks ago, I joined all my inlaws for our annual Applesauce making day.

No.  I still don't like this day.

I guess it is not that bad.  And it can be fun, in an "intense-apple-ish" sort of way.

Still . . . it is not my favorite day.

But I have married into this family and I must now do crazy, insane things like fall trees, pick huckleberries, slide down rocks on garbage bags, and make 119 quarts of applesauce.

And I would like to state for the record that no one, no, not one of them, will ever go to the mall with me.

Ever.

Before you get too excited about my mad photography skills, I must fess up and tell you that all pictures were taken by Lumberjacklings.

Look at how helpful my Handsome Dude is!

No.  Your eyes do not deceive you. 

This is not trick photography.

Yes.   He is wearing his glasses in this high-class photograph and just yesterday I told you his glasses were broken.

I am not a liar.

This photo was taken weeks ago.

Weeks, I tell you!

You may ask, 'Taylor!  How is it that you always look so snazzy?"

Well, readers.  To achieve this early-fall look, I recommend leaving your house in a hurry at 9am to get to church, getting your hair rained on, staying at church for 3 hours, rushing to your sister-in-law's house to start slicing apples, realize your shirt is going to get mighty dirty, coerce your husband into letting you borrow one of his beloved hunting shirts, change your shirt, slice/core apples, get apple gunk in your fingers and casually run your fingers through your hair in order to entice, oh yes, entice your husband who is slicing/coring apples right next you.

Feel free to steal this plan and adapt it as your own.

Your husband will thank you.

It was the same drill as it was last year.  And the year before that.  And the year before that.

Slice and core.  Such a bore. (ha!  now that was clever.  you can't deny it.)

Look!  There I am again in all my snazziness! 

Cook them until tender.

Grind them.

Ensure that you remove peels, seeds, and worms.

Yes.  That's right.  Worms.

Pour into a large bowl-ish thing and look super excited to be stirring said applesauce . . .

as my father-in-law is so aptly demonstrating.

Add cinnamon and sugar.

Pour into jars.

And can, can away!

I would like to announce that the Lumberjack's two brothers were MIA this year.

And I would like to call them out on that.

Jason!

 

Alex!

Your absence from this joyous event was not appreciated, nor did it go unnoticed.

For shame, boys.

For shame.

No sauce for you!

Trust me, Readers.  This will be a travesty for them.  A travesty.

This family, my in-laws, love them some applesauce.

No!  Not just any applesauce.

Their applesauce.

Oh, how it brings delight to their souls! 

They pour it on pork chops and crumble chocolate chip cookies in it.  They spread it on muffins and other baked goods.

And for the special occasions, they make a chocolate cake from a boxed mix and spread a hearty layer of that fresh apple goodness on top of it for frosting.

I mean, yes.  The applesauce is good.

But their love for it  . . . it's a little intense.

Alright.

That's enough of this nonsense.

Happy Tuesday!

The Monday Evening Post.

So, my dashing hunter-ish husband left for his extended "tour de elk" last Saturday.

My parents brought their camp trailer and a lot of fiber and have been camping at my house since then.  We have had good-times-family-fun-togetherness.

As I type this, I was just interrupted with a fantastic Goober Parent Update, and I must share it with you post haste.

First, allow me to set the scene:

They are sitting on a couch about 3 feet apart and they are randomly attacked my Lumberjacklings whilst watching "The Muppets Take Manhattan."

Mom:  Grant!  Is your cell phone charged?

Dad:  Huh?

Mom:  Your phone!  Is it charged?

Dad:  We can set it for whatever time you want.

Mom: Huh?

Dad: WE CAN SET IT FOR WHATEVER TIME!  IT DOESN'T MATTER!

Mom:  GRANT!  IS YOUR CELL PHONE CHARGED?

Dad:  I don't understand what the problem is.

Me:  DAD!  SHE IS JUST MAKING SURE YOUR CELL PHONE IS CHARGED.

Dad:  Oh.  Yes.  It is.

****

Fantastic.

Moving on.

My husband is gone.  I am sure he misses me terribly.  I asked him if I could make him some cookies or brownies or something else awesome like that.

Nope.  He just wanted me to make him two blackberry cobblers.

He is weird, is he not?

***

News of Great Shock:

Handsome Dude has broken his glasses.

I repeat.

He has broken his glasses.

***

In other news:

I am officially stupid.

I, yes, I, Taylor Maliblahblah, allowed our family to get a puppy on the very day my husband left for this hunting nonsense.

And I've learned something about puppies, dear readers.

Puppies are uber naughty.

Sure.  They look cute.

But did you know that this dog, who is named demon puppy Lucy, tried to eat my carpet?

Oh, yes.  She did.

Also:

She tries to eat my throw pillows, my children, my towels, my shoes, my pants, my couch, my paper, my crayons, her leash,  and every single sock in the house.

Guess what she does not eat:  the $7 chew toy we bought her.

Another fun fact about Lucy:  Lucy does not sleep through the night.

Oh, the humanity!

And the worst event ever happened on this very morn.

My Mom:  Taylor!  Lucy is eating a mouse!

Me:  What?  Are you sure?

Mom:  Yes!  It's disgusting!

Me:  Well, what I am going to do about it?

Mom:  I don't know!  But I am not doing anything about it!

Me:  Well, I am certainly not going to touch a mouse!

Mom:  Hey.  It's your dog.

Me:  Do I need to worry about it?

Mom:  Yes.  Mice are gross.

Me:  I know!  Can you do it?

Mom:  Nope.

Whatever, Mom.

So.  I got a broom and got to chase Lucy around the plantation whilst a mouse carcass was entrapped in her tiny, cute jaws.

Clearly I do not know what I am doing.

Although it seems as if I don't know what I am doing in a lot of situations.

What can I say?  I can be clueless.

Probably because I wasn't breastfed.

Whatever, Mom.

Alright.

So . . . does anyone know how to make a puppy be super good, pee outside, not bite children, sleep through the night, and abstain from chewing on mice bodies?

Please Advise.